Tegan,
I had almost forgotten that I submitted my own piece of writing for Crybaby, to Brandon Stosuy's "Sad Happens", a beautifully-illustrated, celebratory anthology exploring sadness and the transformative power of tears. Many of the individuals featured in the book are my heroes, and it is an honor to see my writing alongside theirs.
As I grow older, I find that I'm not as quick to cry, but I am often moved to tears by nostalgia and memories from my past. The concept that nostalgia is a "desire to return in thought or in fact to one's home, homeland, or one's family and friends" resonates deeply with me. What initially began as a quiet yearning to return to Canada has now blossomed into a longing to be among the people and places I cherished when I was young.
This longing has become more accessible now that I'm a parent. Places like libraries and public swimming pools, with their familiar scents (chlorine, what a time-traveling drug it is!), can easily evoke sentimental tears. The joy of seeing Sid among my friends and family and then imagining each of us as young children alongside our previous generations is both a precious gift and, at times, incredibly sorrowful. Because they're gone, and eventually, so will we be.
— Sara
I asked my therapist why do I cry a lot and how can I stop, especially because I cry when I’m angry not sad and she said that it is a defense-mechanism for me because I am unable to alter reality so I cry since it soothes me and I have probably done that since I was a child so whenever something doesn’t go my way, I cry to make myself feel better. I’ve been thinking about her words a lot. I wished that I cried when sad instead of bottling it up then exploding all at once at any minor inconvenience. Crying is healing but it embarrasses me. Why can babies cry and adult can’t? I wish it were more acceptable to see adults crying without labeling them weak.
Talking about nostalgia, I was only present for the Crybaby release as a fan. I missed all the other records but when I listen to your older music, it's like I was there and it gives me the same sensation you described: both a precious gift and, at times, incredibly sorrowful.